Freedom
by jinxedlies
Summary: Harry is dead to the wizarding world. He lives on, but wishes for no one to know it. Because of him, there has been too many deaths. Too many died on the night of the final battle. Note: There will be a longer sequel if there happens to be any interest!


**This is a short One-shot I wrote a little too fast for my own liking, but whatever. I know it's probably super corny, but please review. I may write a longer sequel if there's any interest at all (aka, 'longer sequel being at least ten to twelve parts at the least) Please review. I'm down on my knees here for some reviews!!**

Harry Potter was gone...dead.

An seventeen year old boy stood alone as he watched the processions going on around him. He stayed towards the back of the crowd that consisted of many witches and wizards alike getting ready for a funeral that was to take place in just a few short hours. His funeral.

He knew that they could have done this stuff in mere minutes if they used magic, but the loss of the Savior buried that knowledge and they stumbled about, resembling muggles with true tragedy bestowed upon them. He wished they would just use their magic already, even if the reason they weren't was because it was worth the trouble for their Savior. He wanted this done with. No one should suffer over this sort of thing. Especially since the one they were going through all this trouble for wasn't truly dead as they believed.

He sighed from beneath his invisibility as he twirled his wand between two fingers. He could relieve all that pain so easily. He just had to take off the cloak and show himself, alive and everyone would forget that he was suppose to be dead. Or at least, until they saw the casket sitting in front of about one hundred chairs, reserved for the friends or Harry Potter.

He wiped away the thoughts without giving them a moment to settle. This was the way it had to be. He didn't want to live this way any longer. Being a wizard just wasn't meant for him. Maybe if he hadn't grown up in a muggle society, it would have. But he hadn't, so he just didn't feel as though he belonged.

It had taken him awhile to realize that even at Hogwarts he'd never truly belonged. At the school he was famous and he didn't want to be, yet no one saw that. He wanted to be regular with a regular life. And he would one day achieve that. But the only way was to abandon this world...forever.

He had no doubt it would be hard. His two best friends were most likely at the Burrow, getting ready for the funeral. They would be mourning. Hermione would be crying. Ron would be sitting there, unable to take the truth in for some time. He didn't want to hurt his friends but if they knew he was alive they would try to convince him to stay...that leaving behind the wizarding world was a huge mistake. He wanted to believe those world himself, but he couldn't. It wasn't a mistake. It was meant to be.

_The irony, _Harry thought, taking in his surroundings._ This is very nearly the same place they had Dumbledore's funeral last year. I suppose they believe that it's my rightful place._ He sighed again--they couldn'teven_ bury _him in a normal place. He didn't blame them though. He'd once told Ron and Hermione that Hogwarts was the only place that had ever felt anything near like a home should.

Harry watched idly as the witches and wizards finished preparing. Eventually they began to let the mourners come in and take their seats. A few already had tears flowing freely at the realization that this was it--their Harry Potter, deemed Savior and The Boy Who Lived, was really dead...forever.

Harry wandered through the crowds that began to form, making sure not to brush up against someone and have the possibility of being discovered. After all this, he didn't care for the plans to fall through. He wasn't surprised that Ron and Hermione stood off the the side, mourning alone. Hermione's head rested against his shoulder and he appeared to be comforting her. He smiled, mentally wishing the couple the best of luck. Perhaps one day they would discover that they were meant to be together. Harry edged closer to his two friends, curious about what words were muttered silently out of their lips.

"Oh Ron!" Harry heard Hermione say in a soft whisper, sadness lining her voice. "Poor Harry. He never deserved any of this. He was such a good friend..." She looked around her for a moment before continuing. "He would hate this if he could see it right now. He hates all this fame stuff. He always has."

"I know, 'Mione." Ron's eyes looked dull as he gently led Hermione towards the seats. "But I suppose it's a good thing he can't."

Harry had the unresistable urge to smirk. _If only they knew..._Hermione was right about one thing, though. There was way too many people here for his liking.

The funeral started a few minutes later and Harry found himself bored. They thought he was dead, so they managed to stay awake, but most of the stuff Harry heard was rubbish. Harry leaned against the tree, watching as the Minister suddenly stood from his seat, said a few words, then sat back down again. Gradually others stood and walked to the coffin, muttering words to the dead him. Harry snorted as he listened to some of them, especially Luna Lovegood who kept muttering on about Nargles and something else...but he wasn't sure what.

Eventually, the funeral ended as his coffin was lowered into a magically made hole. Harry sighed. He only had a few more stops to do, then he would leave this world that had been so insistent on killing him from the first day he's stepped through Hogwarts doors.

Fred Weasley's funeral was also that day and Harry stood on the sidelines as the twin was buried near the Burrow. The charms had been temporarily lifted, but Harry couldn't help but notice their were fewer people here than at his own. After that emotional burial, he arrived at yet another for both Remus Lupin and Tonks, newly married, who left behind a little boy hen they died in that final battle that killed so many.

Harry couldn't stick around much longer. He took a short trip to Grignotts and transferred all his wizarding money into the proper British muggle currency. The goblins didn't question him, but Griphook nodded knowingly to him. Harry suspected that his glamour charms were having no effect on the goblins and they were choosing to keep quiet. He thanked them silently in his head as he instructed the goblin to transfer the now muggle money into a account in Switzerland. He remembered that he'd been told that they had the most secure banks in the muggle world.

"Thank you." He told Griphook as he exited the bank, hoping he would never have to see it again. This world was too painful for him now. Too many memories and dead friends.

He kept his head high as he emerged from the Leaky Cauldron into a muggle London street. He could vaguely remember the first time he'd stood in this spot with Hagrid shortly after being told he was a wizard... a great wizard. He kept his face firm, telling himself that he would have to forget, or he would go insane from the need to relive his life in _that _world.

"Wish I could stay," He said to himself as he started to walk away. No one payed the mumbling boy any mind. He wasn't the only one they'd seen talking to themselves. "but I just can't. So good-bye; Ron, Hermione, George, Mrs. Weasley, Mr Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fleur, Little Ted, Ginny..." His voice cracked and tears spilled down his face.

Still, no one looked at him. In a way, it felt incredibly good. He was free from all the fame.

Freedom.


End file.
